Grenada: Sandy wicket

As a cricketer Allan Lamb defied the might of the West Indies. Now he is encouraging British tourists to head there. Peter Foster met him in Grenada

12:01AM BST 13 Apr 2002

THERE is a little more ballast amidships these days and the moustache has disappeared, but for a split-second Allan Lamb offers a glimpse into a bygone era. "Come on, mate," he shouts to a loose-limbed teenager on a Caribbean beach, "make 'im smell dee leather, man! Make 'im smell dee leather!"

As perhaps the bravest batsman in the recent history of English cricket, "Lambie" (even his wife, Lindsay, calls him that) has sniffed more than his fair share of Caribbean cowhide - travelling towards his head at speeds approaching 100mph, delivered by the most fearsome battery of fast bowlers cricket ever saw. Some cowered in the face of Holding, Garner, Marshall et al, but Lamb never flinched, scoring a record six of his 14 Test hundreds against the West Indies.

A decade after he last played for England, he still merits that most prized of Caribbean commodities, "respect". During the drive from Grenada's international airport I let slip to the taxi driver that Lamb was on the island. "Ohhh yes," the driver said after one of those characteristic Caribbean time-delays and a good suck on his teeth, "that Lamb gave us some trouble, he surely did."

Life for Lamb is quieter now, but not much. Today his cricket is played not on an uneven wicket at Sabina Park, Jamaica, but on the silken sands of Grenada's Grand Anse Beach. Here, fielding "in the deep" means standing up to one's waist in a brochure-blue sea, the only place to keep cool. It is 10 in the morning and about 50 people are sharing two miles of beach (the same beach that American marines waded on to during the invasion in October 1983).

Lamb rehearses a few of the old moves to the delight of the local boys, swaying backwards as if evading one of those ferocious Michael Holding bouncers. Some joker says it's a good job we are using a tennis ball. At 47 the reflexes aren't what they were.

But Lamb's appetite for life is undiminished. As a cricketer he was never off his mobile phone and that much hasn't changed. (He once famously brought his phone out to bat during a county match and handed it to Dickie Bird, the umpire, who almost collapsed in shock when, an over later, Ian Botham phoned from the pavilion to tell Lamb to "get a bloody move on".)

Lamb has not gone two steps off the beach when the phone rings. The day's itinerary is rattled out at speed: coaching a group of Millfield schoolboys in the nets, lunch at Grenada's new Test cricket stadium where Yorkshire are playing Northants, then to the dive centre where his 11-year-old son, Richard, is hoping to gain his PADI certificate - and finally a beer before an evening cocktail party arranged with the minister of sport and tourism.

There is some method to all this madness, promises Lamb, while driving to the coaching session. About three years ago Grenada spent more than it could afford on the new stadium. The project was given priority even over a hospital. Nigel Felton, a former Northants opening batsman who played under Lamb, said he must come and have a look.

"Nigel came out on holiday and fell in love with the place. To be honest the stadium was a bit of a white elephant then, but we could see it had bags of potential. Compared to islands like Barbados or Antigua this place is almost untouched. That's why we're here. I've always loved the Caribbean and the people. I had success out here and they seem to respect me for it."

The two have set up a partnership to offer sports tours - football, cricket, athletics - to schools and clubs. The sales pitch is simple. "Most people would dream of playing cricket in the Caribbean, but think it's only something that Test players get to do. That's rubbish. We are going to make that possible."

The Grenadian government and board of tourism are fully behind the project. Richard Strachan, the board's chairman, hopes that the combination of Lamb's international clout and the island's determination to invest in facilities (a second new cricket ground is already being built) will make Grenada a "one-stop shop" for sports tours.

"It gives us a new focus for attracting families to share in our beautiful island and all its other leisure activities," he said.

Half a mile down the road and Lamb has worked himself into a frenzy of enthusiasm. In time he wants to stage an "Allan Lamb cricket festival" where several schools and clubs come to play in a round-robin tournament against other Grenada teams. Plans for a universities cricket competition and six-a-side football tournaments are also in the pipeline. Fitness camps are another attraction.

There is also the 2007 Cricket World Cup which is being staged in the West Indies to look forward to. UK Athletics are already using Grenada for out-of-season training for Olympic hopefuls. Then there is an 18-hole golf course under construction. "It will be a family thing," adds Lamb, "the kids can come and play cricket or football while the mums and dads lie on the beach, go diving or deep sea fishing, take a mountain rainforest tour, all that other stuff."

Millfield School, renowned for its sporting excellence, is Lamb's first guinea pig. At the Grenada Cricket Academy six boys report for nets and an hour's coaching. Their tour, on which they will play local boys teams from the island and a Grenada Under-15 side, is costing about £1,000 a head. Several parents are accompanying their children, taking the chance to have a holiday too. It is clear that the dads are much more excited by the prospect of a Lamb master-class than their children, who are too young to remember him in his pomp.

Lamb gets to work on one player's technique, explaining that when he faced fast bowling his secret was to remain still until the ball was delivered. Later, over one of the many beers that he manages to squeeze into his day, he tells the story of the time Mike Gatting had his nose crushed flat by a Malcolm Marshall bouncer. When Lamb went out to bat he recalled having to clear away several pieces of gristle and cartilage before scratching his mark on the bloodied crease line.

Lamb is soon back in his four-wheel drive and off to the cricket stadium where Yorkshire are playing Northants. A lunch of chicken and rice is taken, with the emphasis again on speed. Between mouthfuls, he explains that his interest in tourism stems from his cricketing days. He was never the sort to lie by the pool or sit in his room watching television.

He tells a wild story about the day he went looking for silk-weave carpets while playing in Peshawar during a cricket World Cup. With a few other players (mention no names) he strayed across the border into Afghanistan. The tour included an unplanned visit to a hashish factory where they watched blocks of cannabis resin being wrapped in cellophane before test-firing one of the guard's Kalashnikovs.

Step outside the whirling world of "Allan Lamb Inc" and Grenada, the Spice Island, is a tranquil place. The entire island has only 1,800 hotel beds. Strict building regulations forbidding any construction over three storeys high have helped preserve a verdant coastline.

Perhaps it was the enduring stigma of the revolution and the US invasion that kept the tourists away for so long. The revolutionaries murdered 12 people, including Maurice Bishop, the popular Marxist-Leninist leader of Grenada, in the old colonial fort. They are still imprisoned on the island almost 20 years later. The locals don't much like talking about the "dark days" and there are few obvious reminders, except an oversized airport (built to take military transport aircraft) and the bombed remains of Bishop's old offices on a hill above Saint George's Harbour.

Although Grenada's debt-ridden government relies increasingly on tourist dollars, no one seems to have made too much effort to tart the place up for the guests. Saint George, the capital, is an engaging mish-mash of architectural styles: grand colonial left-overs rubbing shoulders with rusting corrugated-iron roofs and peeling clapboard houses. There is a genteel rottenness about the place, a patina of tatty South America left behind by the corrosive humidity and a desiccating sun.

The National Museum looks older and more dilapidated than most of its exhibits, which span three centuries: a beret from the 82nd Airborne left during the invasion, a 19th-century poster bill advertising slaves "of good character" for sale and a proclamation by George III promising reprisals against those responsible for the pro-French revolt of 1795.

Away from the harbour front (and the lines of pottering cruise-ship passengers buying coral necklaces) there are lots of domino-and-rum establishments and hidden eateries, including one with a contender for the world's finest lavatory message. "Gentleman!" says the sign hanging over the pissoir, "It may be shorter than you think. Draw a little closer and help us keep these facilities clean."

For parents not involved in their children's cricket matches there is plenty to do. The rainforest has fabulous birds, armadillos, possums and tree-dwelling boa constrictors. The waterfalls, which descend through the canopy forming natural swimming pools, are a perfect place to cool off, though they are also deceptively deep, a fact that cost the Sussex spinner, Umer Rashid, and his younger brother their lives earlier this month.

Big game fishing, for species including blue marlin, is excellent. Divers and snorkellers have several miles of coral reef to explore. (Later that afternoon, young Richard Lamb passed his PADI test, much to the delight of his father, who appeared more nervous while waiting for the results than he ever did facing a West Indies bowler.)

Away from the coast, visitors can see manufacturing processes that haven't much changed since the days when the sugar and spice plantations were worked by slaves. The Rivers Rum distillery, which uses a water-wheel installed in 1785 and a Victorian-era sugar cane press, will satisfy all those peculiarly male curiosities about "how things are made". If you fancy a tot of the end product - a scorching spirit that is 75 per cent alcohol by volume - be warned that it will scar the back of the throat for a full 24 hours. These days, that's about as close as Allan Lamb gets to the heat of battle.

The more secluded La Sagesse, on the south-east tip of the island, is a place to relax. "You feel like you could be on an island all of your own. There is a perfect line of coconut palms for shade all along the shore."

Many rate the Calabash - modern cuisine with a Caribbean twist - as the island's best restaurant. "They have their own private beach," says Lamb. "It's a great place after sunset."

One of his own favourites is La Belle Creole in Morne Rouge. Seafood is a speciality - "the best bloody lobster, man". The restaurant on the Mt Rodney Estate (lunches only), set in the grounds of an old sugar cane plantation, is worth the trip just for the historical setting.

For a beer, the Red Crab at Lance aux Epines is a regular haunt, as are the Boatyard Restaurant and Tiki Bar nearby and the bar of the Flamboyant Hotel, which has spectacular views along Grand Anse Bay. Wednesday nights usually sees a steel band in residence.

As for trips, Lamb's advice is to "get to some of the little places off the coast, like Hog Island and Calivigny Island. Those are the places".